Baldr
by tectrices
Summary: A Christmastime tale. Retold myth. He was colder than the thickest ice, colder than the freezing winds that were made to sustain him. And remember kids, mistletoe kills.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything! Whoo!

A/N: Another one-shot? Bad ILB, very bad! I have chapter stories going, and yet here I am taking a break for nonsensical one-shots that have little bearing on anything except my sanity. (Call it... _stress-relief_ if you will.) This was supposed to be a little holiday treat just in time for the season, and... well, I guess that's still what it is, it's just weird now. This originally was just a giant ball of fluff, and then, in a foolish attempt to remedy that, I made it so angsty I could hardly stand to read it. I tried centering it around Christmas (which was the original point), but I never got the effect I wanted. So, in the end, I settled on writing the first thing that popped in my head, be it Christmas-y or not.

This, my friends, is the result. Deadly mistletoe and swirling snow. Enjoy it before it melts.

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**_Baldr_**

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It was cold. 

The wind whipped around outside like some fierce warrior, knocking out enemies as it swept across the battlefield. The snow on the ground was piled up, cold heaps of powder lining streets and sidewalks. The world looked barren. Dark. Unforgiving. But he didn't really mind.

Inside, where he sat by the fire, the gleam of the leaping flames and the glow of the lamplight illuminating the big, empty room, he felt cold as well, colder even than those people who dared venture out into the white wilderness. His wasn't a cold that could be warmed; his started deep, and seeped into his bones, and made him shiver and shake even in the heat of high summer. It was a lonely existence, he and his snowy soul the only ones who could understand the majesty of dark mid-winter. He had lived, barren like that, for years, and so he could endure it longer than any of the beings who knew the pleasures of warmth. He didn't need heat; he had his _freezing_.

But that was what sustained him.

Even in the dark and the cold and with the wintery blast of falling snow, he never wanted anything else. He was alone and happy on his frigid, freezing mount, and death befell anyone who dared to disturb him. The iciness he exuded could freeze even the warmest heart in its tracks. He was a glacier- a tall, imposing piece of ice blessed with a temperament and heart just as cold. He was at peace with his place in the world, and as others bundled and tried to warm up, he sat smug and content in his palace of winter's finest wonder. The cold was who he was. The ice and the snow and the unforgiving sting of the wind that had frozen his heart and his smile were all that he ever needed.

Those around this god of glacial beauty did not share his cool complacency. They were jealous; why should he thrive and flourish in such harsh conditions when they had to search for the light and heat they so desperately needed to live? They cursed his hypothermic happiness- they blamed him for their own wretched state, and vowed to bring him down from his throne of wintry darkness.

The plan was simple. Nothing would go wrong, they were sure of it. They took their places, prepared to pull off what was previously thought unaccomplishable. The trap was set, the pieces in place, and everything ready to destroy the icy soul that tormented them.

A knock at his door. He grunted in annoyance, but went to answer. A nice, icy tirade was exactly what he needed after being by the fireside for so long. But there was no one there, except the wind and the snow. A tingling feeling coursed through his frozen body, and though not one to listen to signs or premonitions, he followed the feeling that had suddenly hit him and he looked up.

_Mistletoe._

A sprig of mistletoe hung above him, looking fresh and tender and even more alive against the backdrop of bleakness. A rising tide of apprehension overtook him. His downfall- after all those years of ensuring his supremacy, he knew that the one little plant above him would be his undoing.

And it was.

There was a flash of something- something _blue_ of all things- and then he was attacked. Warmth, spreading from a point he couldn't identify, taking over all his senses, all his mind, all his cold, frozen soul. He felt himself melting. Melting because of that warmth he abhorred. It was a fate worse than anything he could have imagined, even as the tingling feeling of regret and despair overwhelmed him and nearly caused his heart to burst.

Death. It came; he met his end amidst the blustery, freezing, unforgiving winter he loved so very much, and clung to for so very long. The frost was over, and he was gone.

**XXX**

"_You know Anzu," Seto said as they sat together on the new sofa by his big fireplace, the glow of the lamplight lighting up the big, cluttered-cozy room, "I think..."_

_She laughed before he could ever finish the thought. Taking a sip from her mug of hot chocolate, she asked, "What Seto? What is that devious mind of yours thinking?"_

_He smiled, though she couldn't see it from her spot nestled on his chest. "That first kiss, under the mistletoe on that cold winter's night... I think it was the best present I've ever received."_

_Anzu closed her eyes and smiled in contentment. "Of course. I think so, too. After all, it was how I got you."_

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End A/N: It's over. The last scene was cute though, wasn't it? Yeah, that makes it all Ok. I'm sure you all, being the intelligent readers that you are, understood the title and then the ending of the fic. (Think Norse mythology here. I'll explain if you need me to.) I sort of based it on the story, but then it kind of warped into a fairy tale-ish thing, and then it just all melted together into a swirling page of oozy, swoozy mess. I guess I like it. So... Review, please, and make my day. Going to go crawl back into the real world and study my brains out. Huzzah!

ILB


End file.
